Trial By Fire
by tocktick
Summary: When Chuck is arrested, Chuck and Blair's relationship is questioned as much as Chuck's character. Who believes Chuck has truly changed, and will Chuck and Blair's relationship be able to handle the scrutiny? Spoilers up to Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

Blair traced the edge of her martini glass: cool to the touch. Just like her boyfriend as of late, the great Chuck Bass. If someone asked her to describe the boy she had grown up with, words like "passionate" and "hot-headed" would come to mind, adjectives that didn't seem to fit the distant and unrufflable man who had been coming home from the office for the past couple of weeks. Chuck's usual fire, the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his lips - the things she secretly loved most about him - had become suspiciously absent. That is in the few times Chuck wasn't absent himself. He was always at work, a fact she often used as ammunition to start a fight, hoping to spark a flame inside of him. Instead, he usually apologized quickly, with soulful eyes and tender kisses. How was Blair supposed to continue her attack when such guilt shone in his eyes?

Blair missed the humidity of summer – of the beginning of their relationship – when the two couldn't stand to spend 3 hours apart, nonetheless 3 days. Blair hadn't seen Chuck in 3 days! At least not in a fully conscious state. Chuck always returned to her at night, his icy limbs sending shockwaves through her own as he climbed into bed and wrapped his body around her own. At first, Blair had tried to make conversation, ask Chuck about his day, tell him about hers - or even better yet, seduce him. But Blair could no longer stand to take away the few hours of rest Chuck managed each night, not when she could visibly see the toll these long days were taking on him in the dark bags under his eyes. Instead, she would bring his hand to her lips, before desperately intertwining his fingers with her own and whispering an "I love you" into the night air, hoping against all odds that her hand wouldn't wake up empty in the morning.

But Blair's hand was not empty now. She brought the cool glass to her lips and downed the rest. She missed Chuck Bass: the tempestuous, brooding bad boy; the considerate, carefree boyfriend; the dispirited, yet dedicated businessman. She would settle for whatever version of the man she could get because her life was ruled by one truth: Blair Waldorf needed Chuck Bass.

She signaled Joey the bartender for another drink.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Waldorf, but Mr. Bass gave me express instructions not to serve you more than two martinis in one night," Joey explained, his hands defiantly on his hips contradicting the fear in his eyes. But Blair didn't feel like attacking tonight. She would go gentle.

"Well then, I guess we should both be happy Mr. Bass didn't say anything about a scotch on the rocks." Blair pushed her empty martini glass towards Joey, her eyebrows raised and lips pursed, challenging the bartender to refuse his customer. He backed down, shaking his head as he picked up her empty glass and quickly replaced it with a different one. Blair's lips curved slightly upward in a smirk that didn't match her eyes, "Wise choice."

Despite having gotten what she wanted, the fact that Joey caved so easily only served as a reminder of Chuck's absence. A few weeks ago Joey never would have disregarded Chuck's wishes. Because a few weeks ago Blair would have returned to an apartment occupied with a Chuck angry that his girlfriend was drunk, alone, in a bar. Even if it was his bar, and she was totally capable of taking care of herself. A few weeks ago, Chuck and Blair would have gotten in a ridiculous fight over these facts, followed by a round or two of mind-blowing sex, and a morning after of blueberry pancakes and a phone call to fire Joey the bartender. But that was a few weeks ago.

Blair downed the scotch in one go. It had barely had a chance to get acquainted with the ice and still had some warmth in it, dirty and sweet as it burned down her throat. Her fingers were wet from the scotch that had splashed over the side in her haste, and they smelled like Chuck. Like his breath when he murmured dirty suggestions intermingled with sweet affirmations of his love, his scotch-kissed lips just a whisper from her own. Her fingers betrayed her. She wanted to stick them in her mouth and suck away their treason. Chuck could do that better, she mused, her mind following her fingers' example.

Worse still: the heart. She feared she could do nothing to stop its deceit. Last to fall, after her lips and hands and tongue. It had put up a good struggle – a stalwart warrior standing alone – but, inevitably, it had fallen the hardest, as the fiercest fighters often do. She feared even if she could compell those fingers to reach into her chest and rip out the traitorous organ, it would still beat for him.

Blair shot to her feet. She needed to get out. Away from his scotch, his bartender, his hotel. It was too hard to be in his world without him. The room swirled a bit around her, but the ceiling stayed above her perfectly-pinned hair and the floor below her Louboutin-laden feet, so she marched towards the exit.

"Hey, Joey! Turn that up," a businessman bellowed from the bar, easily catching her attention in a way that never would have been possible if not for the alcohol she had just imbibed. The businessman's hand was inching up the leg of a woman half his age, wearing half as much clothing as him. Blair's face twisted in disgust. Some people have no class, even in the most expensive of hotel bars. Couldn't this night just let her slink away without a reminder that Chuck's world was filled with such people?

Blair's eyes flitted to the television screen briefly as she turned the door knob, not really sure where she was planning on heading, but emboldened by the cold, metal feeling of escape in her palm. One foot was out the door before she registered what she had just seen. Her body snapped back around in a way that probably would have been comical if not for the situation. The television was turned to CNN, a news anchor practiced tone becoming louder as Joey clicked the volume button.

"…is still unknown. I repeat: all that is known is that – just moments ago – Charles Bass was escorted by the NYPD from his Manhattan office in handcuffs." Blair shivered as a draft swept in through the open door. She couldn't move. Not yet. She was still trying to comprehend how this moment could be so different from the one before. The anger and frustration that had so consumed her mere seconds ago were still present, but had been shoved aside by shock and confusion and – above all else – concern.

A group of obviously underage drunk high schoolers giggled their way into the bar, knocking Blair out of the doorway and out of her spell. She darted outside and towards the street, hailing the first cab that rushed by.

"Where you heading?" the driver threw over his shoulder.

Blair froze at the question. She didn't know which station Chuck was being held at. He could be anywhere in the city, she realized. She rattled off the first random Manhattan address that came to mind as she brought her phone – her most lethal weapon – to her ear. Where was she heading? Sometimes she didn't realize it or didn't want to or took her sweet ass time getting there, but she was heading to only place she was ever really heading: to Chuck Bass' side.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews! Sorry it took me a bit to post this. I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter Two: The Girl Who Loved Chuck Bass**

"_How many young hearts have revealed the fact that what they had been trained to imagine the highest earthly felicity was but the beginning of care, disappointment, and sorrow, and often led to the extremity of mental and physical suffering." _

- Catharine Esther Beecher

***

"Now, listen here, little lady," a police officer's raised voice carried from the front desk of the station, as Chuck was led to another holding area. After having refused to answer any of their questions without a lawyer present - a strategy he had sworn by following a rather unfortunate "misunderstanding" with some customs officials on his return from Thailand at the age of 13 – he seriously doubted a change of scenery was going to change his mind. "I know you're all worked up about your gentleman friend's arrest, but it's not policy to let detained persons have visitors. This isn't a Holiday Inn."

"No, you listen, Barney Fife!" Blair's voice shouted across the police station, immediately catching Chuck's attention, his body twisting involuntarily in an attempt to catch sight of her, before he was shoved into the room. "I'm not sure which podunk town you crawled out of, but if you don't let me see Charles Bass this instant, I'll make sure you're back there quicker than you can say, 'Golly gee!'" Detective McKinley slammed the door closed.

"Girlfriend of yours?"He smirked, obviously familiar with Chuck's reputation.

"Something like that," Chuck spit back. He was already pissed about being dragged down here, but to be reminded that he was not currently at home with his girlfriend put him in an even fouler mood, which he hadn't thought possible. It had been so long since he had really spent time with Blair, and he missed her. Unbelievably so.

There was a knock on the door. "Be right back," the detective stated as he walked out the door. "If you feel the sudden urge to share while I'm gone, feel free." He motioned to the pen and paper on the metal table in front of him.

Chuck rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that he had been arrested, but to be stuck with the quippy detective as his arresting officer? He felt like he was in a bad 70's cop show. Chuck didn't have time for this, not with Bass Industries in its current state. Ever since they had asked him back to help with the plummeting company, his life had been nothing but work, especially since Jack had come back to town a few weeks prior. The board seemed to trust Jack and, since Chuck had relinquished control of the company, he had no choice but to work beside him. Chuck had been doing all his own work, as well as keeping a close eye on Jack and his motives.

What made it worse was that he still hadn't told Blair that Jack was in town, and he felt incredibly guilty about it. Their relationship had been strained since Chuck's return to his father's company and he didn't want to risk sending it into a downward spiral with the news that the uncle Blair had had sex with was in town and working closely with Chuck. To be honest, he didn't like to remind himself of the fact anymore than Jack did on a daily basis. With the extremely long hours and no one to talk to about his psychopathic uncle, Chuck had been truly miserable for the first time since he and Blair had started dating. The only bright spots in the past couple of weeks had been when he could curl up with Blair under the covers at the end of the day.

The door swung open, but Chuck wouldn't give Detective McKinley the satisfaction of looking up for what was surely designed to be a startling entrance.

"Come to ask me some more questions?" Chuck drolled, staring intently at his fingers as they drummed on the table. "I can assure you, I'm not feeling any more talkative than I was five minutes ago."

"Oh, I have ways to make you talk, Bass." Blair's voice shot across the room. Chuck's head sprang up, his mouth hanging open. Blair stood in doorway, hands on hips. It had been three days since he had seen her in anything other than a dark room and he couldn't help but stare. At her perfect doe eyes. The way her soft curls contradicted her sharp jawline. How her delicate fingers curled around her slender hips.

His mouth finally recovered and formed a smirk. "They must agree with you if they actually let you in here, Waldorf. And without supervision." Chuck plastered a smile on his face and waved at the two-way mirror on the left side of the room. "Well, supervision inside the room." Blair closed the door and sauntered over. "Do sit down." Chuck motioned to the chair on the other side of the table.

Blair ignored his request, instead opting to come around the table and slug him in the arm with her purse.

"Ow!" Chuck groaned, rubbing his arm. "What was that for?!"

"That was for getting arrested!" She hit him again. "That was for not coming home at a reasonable hour in three days! And, this," Blair hit Chuck half-heartedly a third time, "is for making me miss you." And just like that, their lighthearted charade was over. Chuck's eyes softened and he reached for her hand. The door opened, but neither Chuck nor Blair seemed to notice. The world was theirs alone.

"Ms. Wal-," Detective McKinley froze as he took in their position. Blair's hand was clasped in Chuck's, his thumb reassuringly stroking the top of her hand. Blair's eyes shone, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Chuck's dark eyes were locked intensely with Blair's, as if he were trying to suck all the sorrow she had ever felt right out of her soul. He was rising to take her into his arms when McKinley finally regained his bearings. "Ms. Waldorf." The two snapped apart, and McKinley felt the slightest pang of guilt. "No touching allowed. I'm going to have to escort you out."

Blair's eyes stole towards Chuck and her hand moved minutely towards him – the tiniest cracks in the armor she wore – before she composed herself completely. "Think you can behave yourself without me, Bass?" Blair challenged.

Chuck gave McKinley a hard glance before grasping Blair's hand. "I don't know, Waldorf. I'd say I usually have an easier time behaving myself without you." He raised her hand to his mouth, grazing his lips against it. "Wouldn't you agree?" Chuck smirked, reluctantly letting go of Blair's hand. Blair's hands quickly found each other in front of her body, perhaps in an effort to minimize the loss.

McKinley held the door open wider. "I must insist, Ms. Waldorf." Blair moved mechanically towards the door, Chuck's eyes following her every step. McKinley's light touch on the small of her back seemed to snap her out of her spell. She twisted around as she was led over the threshold by McKinley, her eyes frantically searching for Chuck's. His eyes were waiting, filled with a mixture of love and concern. A sudden and intense need to wrap her arms around Chuck flared up in her, but she pushed it back down and the door quickly closed, blocking her sight of him.

In the months that followed, Blair thought back again and again to this moment, wishing with everything in her that she had ignored McKinley and flung herself into Chuck's arms. She couldn't help but wonder if it would have changed everything. If she had pressed her lips urgently to his and whispered an "I love you" into his ear – if she had reminded him at this pivotal moment- then maybe he wouldn't have pushed her away.

Blair fell back into her trance as McKinley escorted her through the busy station and out the heavy oak doors. "Here you are, Ms. Waldorf." She raised her eyes, meeting his for the first time that night. Her lids drooped with exhaustion in a way they hadn't just minutes before, unable to conceal the toll the past couple of weeks, of being away from Chuck, had taken on her.

McKinley felt the sudden need to help this small, fierce girl, if only for tonight. He led her down the stairs and to a waiting taxi, nodding his head towards the driver leaning against the hood, smoking a cigarette. "Try to get some sleep, Ms. Waldorf," he urged as he opened the door for her. She nodded absentmindedly, climbing inside. He closed the door behind her. "I'm sorry," he said, because it seemed the only thing to say to the girl who loved Chuck Bass. She peered questioningly up at him, so he tried to elaborate. "I didn't know," was all he could manage.

Part of him hoped she would understand this vague sentiment, the pity in his eyes. Then, he wouldn't seem – or feel – such a monster. The other, less selfish part of him wished that she wouldn't. Wouldn't understand – at least for tonight – that the man she loved was about to be taken away from her, torn apart, his scraps fought over.

Then, the cab disappeared into the night and he fell out of the spell. When he looked back on that strange night, he would chalk his doubts up to the fatigue that comes with working 18-hour days, as well as the striking beauty of Ms. Blair Waldorf. He would remind himself that Chuck Bass was the monster for letting such a delicate thing fall in love with him, knowing better than anyone that he was a creature of destruction and didn't deserve to be loved.

But, sometimes, when he lay awake on those sleepless nights, Detective McKinley would think of the way Chuck Bass' hand had clutched Blair Waldorf's as if it were the only thing that could save him, how his eyes had never once left her face, and how sometimes – when he thought no one was listening – he would whisper one word into the silence like a prayer: "Blair."


	3. Chapter 3: Fatal Oxygen

**Chapter Three: Fatal Oxygen**

"Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell." ~ Fr. Jerome Cummings

***

The light blared in through the open window, boring through Blair's closed eyelids. Chuck must have forgotten to close the shades last night. The cold sheet Blair's hand found on the other side of the bed was enough to remind her: she was the one who had forgotten to close the shades when she had fallen into bed in the early hours of the morning. Chuck was at the police station.

Blair released an exasperated sigh as she pulled herself out of bed and wandered out of their bedroom. She stubbed her toe on the couch when she went to turn the television on. "Ouch!" she shrieked. Muting the television, she dialed down to room service. She was going to need a serious caffeine fix if she wanted to make it until sunset without a power nap. And Waldorfs did not take power naps.

Chuck had better be back soon. The weekends were their time together, which was part of the reason she had been so upset at his extended absence yesterday. It was already well into Sunday morning and the only time she had spent with Chuck had been at a police station. Not exactly the walks through Central Park, or better yet the days in, the couple usually shared on a lazy Sunday morning. Blair was even willing to consider putting off the inevitable fight she was planning on forcing about Chuck's recent neglect of their relationship in favor of...other activities.

Blair's meandering thoughts were rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. "This better be my coffee," she muttered to herself. She flung the door open, ready to reprimand the room service employee on the exorbitant amount of time he had taken, even though it was untrue. But it wasn't a hotel employee standing on the other side.

"Jack," she gasped.

He strode through the door before Blair had time to register what was happening, nevertheless decide how she felt about this unexpected development.

Jack made straight for the bar, pouring himself a scotch, and turning back towards Blair. "I'm guessing from your adorably aghast expression that my dear nephew didn't find it relevant to inform you that I'm back in town," he said before taking a large gulp.

Blair had regained her bearings, and was now quite sure of her opinion of this turn of events: she wanted Jack gone. Gone from her apartment, gone from the city, gone from the country. The farther, the better. In the mean time, she didn't want Jack to see how much his being here affected her. At least, anymore than he already had.

"Chuck has been very busy with work these past week, Jack." Blair replied, hands on hips, "I'm sure he just hadn't gotten around to it." She was, in fact, very angry with Chuck. How could he not tell her this? Was this why he had been acting so distant lately? She had thought their days of lying were behind them.

"Isn't that sweet and naïve. Thinking Chuck would actually let someone fully into his life," Jack taunted with a smirk. "Actually, Blair. I've been back in town for weeks now, working alongside your boyfriend," he said the word with an air of disgust, "everyday. In fact, I probably see him more than you do." Blair's eyes flared with this new piece of information. They were definitely going to have a talk about this.

What to do about Jack, though? She was definitely failing on the whole "don't let Jack see he's getting to you" front, but she'd rather cut her losses, than spend another 5 minutes in a room with him. "Well, Jack, it's been nice catching up," she said sarcastically, stepping to the open door, "but I actually have a full day ahead of me, so..." She motioned towards the open door.

Jack raised his eyebrows and lowered his glass, but didn't move towards the door. "Well, you're certainly taking this well. I thought I would find you distraught and in need of comfort." His eyes scanned her body suggestively. "And you know how I like to be there for you in your time of need."

Blair wrapped her arms around her body. Her robe suddenly felt very thin. Thankfully, when she spoke, her voice did not betray any of her uneasiness, "First of all: gross. Second of all: Chuck's been arrested before. I think I can handle it. I'm not under any illusions my boyfriend is a saint. Now, please, leave."

Jack chuckled cruelly, as he poured himself another drink.. "This is better than I thought. I just came over her to rub Chuck's arrest in your face, point out that you chose the wrong Bass, but to get to see your face when you hear the news..."

Blair's stomach dropped slightly. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice faltering a bit.

Jack crept closer, smirking, "It seems dear old Chuck has been arrested for rape. And it turns out, they frown upon that sort of thing down at the station. Be a bit hypocritical for me to judge him for the crime, wouldn't it? But to let the bitch turn him in? That's just sloppy." Blair felt sick, though she wasn't sure if it was because of Jack's words or his sudden proximity to her. He reached out and touched her stomach, she could smell the alcohol in his breath, but she remained frozen, had to hear the rest of his words.

"I was just down there, and it seems, they are not going to be letting him out anytime soon. Guess that conversation about me is going to have to wait. So, how about that comfort?" Blair tensed as she suddenly realized how Jack was hovering over her.

Her eyes welled with tears as she rose them to meet Jack's, inches from her own face. "Get. Out," she growled.

Jack smirk widened into a toothy grin, as he wrapped his arm around her back and forced her struggling body against him. He smashed his lips against her own, forcing her mouth open. Though she had tasted the liquor in Chuck's kisses dozens of time before, the flavor now stung like acid as Jack forced his scotch-soaked tongue inside her mouth. Blair brought her hands up to his chest and tried to push him away, but to no avail. Blair's head became dizzy with panic just as a sound at the door seized Jack's attack.

A room service employee stood in the open doorway, eyes wide and tray of coffee in hand. "Excuse me, Ms. Waldorf. You ordered room service," he spoke softly, embarrassed.

Blair stared at the man for a good five seconds, the situation having changed so drastically and unexpectedly in such a short amount of time, before responding. "Of course," she mumbled because that seemed the only thing to say, before gesturing him in and distancing herself from Jack. "Please put it on the table." She glanced at Jack who was now glaring at the hotel employee.

The man placed the tray on the table before turning back around. "Will there be anything else, Ms. Waldorf?" he asked.

"Yes, could you please escort Mr. Bass out of the building," Blair instructed, her head starting to clear. "Thank you." She met the man's eyes. To think just moments before she was ready to yell at him for no particular reason. She stuffed a generous wad of cash into the man's hand, though it seemed an insignificant amount for what he had just saved her from.

The man gestured towards the door, "After you, Mr. Bass." Jack stole one last look at Blair before setting his scotch glass down, and storming out the door.

"I'll see you soon, Blair," he spat, the smirk back on his face.

Blair shut the door behind them and latched both locks. She peered out the peek hole before setting her back against the hard door. She took a deep breath in, but the air tasted stale. Her breathing became labored as she sucked air into her nose and mouth again and again before forcing it out just as quickly, hoping for a different result.

Her hand flew to her mouth and her stomach churned dangerously as she realized it was her body that was spoiling the air. She dashed to the bathroom, not making it to the toilet and emptying her stomach into the bathtub again and again until there was nothing left. Blair turned on the shower, washing the evidence away before peeling off her robe and stepping under the hot water herself.


	4. Chapter 4: The BowTied Boy

**Chapter Four: The Bow-Tied Boy**

"One weakness is enough, and love is the deadliest." ~ Bertolt Brecht

*******

Chuck Bass rested his forehead against the cool metal of the bars. His head was pounding. To say he was having a bad day would have been an understatement. It's not that he wasn't used to being behind bars. It had been a quite common occurrence in his youth. Just because he had become reformed as of late, didn't mean he couldn't handle a night in jail anymore.

No, Chuck Bass couldn't handle was being surprised. When he was a little kid, he had learned to be prepared. He had not been a Cub Scout. Boy Scouts was for kids who followed orders. Chuck liked to be in control, to always know what was going to happen before it happened. This was why he rebelled. He always knew Bart was going to catch him. He wanted him to. It was the game they played, even if Bart didn't know he was playing it. His father had always assumed that his boozing, womanizing, and drug use were results of his weakness of character, of his inability to exhibit self control. In truth, Chuck could've stopped anytime he wanted, but then they would've been playing a different game. A game Chuck didn't know the rules to.

The same thing had happened with Blair, why it took him so long to tell her that he loved her. The game had changed, and he didn't know how to play, and that scared him. It wasn't about lust or desire or even affection anymore. It was about love, true love: the highest stake. It was like graduating from Poker to Russian Roulette. You make a mistake in the game of love, and the consequence wasn't just losing tens of thousands of dollars, a priceless baseball, or a glorified watch, it was losing everything, your life for all intents and purposes. Maybe not for everyone, but for Chuck and Blair, the way they played. They were all in. Blair was the only one Chuck would be willing to be surprised for, to risk being out of control.

But this was not Blair, this was the NYPD. And they seemed to know Chuck's weakness, the way to wear him down. Time after time in the last 24 hours, they had surprised him. First, with the arrest. As far as he could tell, the cops had had a meeting yesterday morning and decided, "You know what? Our lives have been a little dull as of late. Let's arrest Chuck Bass today. We haven't done that in a while. Pam, make it our 6 o'clock."

Next surprise: his alleged crime. Probably thought his rap sheet was looking a little too focused what with all the substance abuse and disorderly conduct, needed a rape charge if he was going to be a well-rounded criminal. Too bad the girl they found to sing their story had never even shared the same air space with him, nonetheless any of his body fluid. It was like their hearts weren't even in it, which was insulting now that he thought about it. Maybe after he conquered the business world, he could do his part for law enforcement. Of course, he could never be a common police officer. Maybe he and Blair could go into the private detective field. Blair could come to work in a trench coat...and nothing else. He could make a private dick joke, or two.

Chuck was pulled rudely from his thoughts, and cell, by Detective McKinley. Finally. "I will take your apology in written or verbal form, though I must warn you, if you chose the verbal option, you're going to have to be on your knees."

They walked out to the main room and Chuck turned towards the exit. McKinley grabbed his elbow and steered him towards the holding room. "Where do you think you're going, Bass? We're not releasing you. You have a visitor."

Chuck tried not to show his surprise, which was a hell of a lot easier now that he had gone from tiredly amused to extremely pissed. "I've had enough of your antics. I played along with your games because I thought your efforts to play detective were mildly endearing, but now they are old. I'm tired, my pants are dirty, and I want to go home." To Blair.

Detective McKinley eyed Chuck Bass cautiously. Was this kid serious? Did he really not know how much trouble he was in? He quashed the wave of pity that he felt creeping up. No, Chuck Bass had been in and out of dozens of jails across the world since he was 12, and probably avoided dozens more with those acting chops of his.

McKinley's eyes hardened. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." McKinley quipped before opening the door and shoving him into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"You just make friends wherever you go." Jack was slouched in the same chair Chuck had been sitting in when Blair visited the previous night. It seemed so long ago now.

"Jack," Chuck growled before sitting down across the table from him. "So nice of you to visit. And how did you manage that exactly?"

"It seems for the right amount of money, they'll let just about anyone in here." Jack smirked. "Though I do believe that Detective McKinley believes I'm your lawyer. Cute, isn't he?"

"He's a regular teddy bear." Chuck was becoming impatient. He wanted to know what exactly was going on, but he didn't want Jack to know how little he knew. "What are you doing here, Jack?" That seemed like a safe question.

"Oh, I just wanted to get a visit in before they locked you up behind the big bars. Seems you've gotten yourself into quite a bit of trouble. Too bad Bart isn't here to bail you out this time. I've just been to visit Blair-"

"You stay the hell away from her," Chuck growled, leaning across the table.

"Have a little compassion. She just found out her boyfriend not only cheated on her, but raped a girl. That can't make for the best day ever." Jack folded his hands in front of himself on the table. "I was just there to offer a little comfort."

Chuck's eyes darkened. "Blair wouldn't touch you," he hissed.

"My, my. Someone has a short memory." He drummed his fingers together, as if bored.

"And I would never do that to her." Chuck leaned back. "She knows that," he added, quietly, but even as he said it, he began to doubt himself. He had hurt her so many times. Blair knew of his troubled past. The Kiss On The Lips Party. Jenny Humphrey. Shit, even he almost believed it. But Blair believed in him. She had said so herself. Although, that was before he started like a total asshole, lying to her about Jack and canceling date after date.

Chuck's realized he had been quiet for too long. He raised his eyes slowly to meet Jack's which twinkled with amusement. "Does she believe it?" Chuck sounded like a little boy.

Even as a child, Chuck had rarely looked like one. Jack remembered the boy who wore suits and bow ties at the age of 7, actually looking like they belonged on him, rather than the costume they should have been. Once, when Chuck was young, and Jack still lived in New York and saw him frequently at company parties and the like, Chuck had run away to Jack's penthouse. He had been mad at his father for something or other, most likely Bart was not paying attention to the boy as he rarely had, and decided to punish him.

Chuck had shown up at Jack's door in a pastel green bow tie and purple sweater vest and said, "Uncle Jack, I am seeking asylum. I have run away from home, and do not wish for my father to know where I am. Can you agree to these terms?"

Jack had been quite taken aback, but was playing brother at this point in hopes of advancing in the company, and, honestly, found the kid's antics pretty entertaining. "Of course. You're family."

Chuck had offered his hand. "We have a deal, then?" And Jack had accepted.

Hours later, Bart had called, looking for a contract he was supposed to have signed by the morning. The man had not even realized his son was missing. Jack told him that Chuck was there and that he would send over the contract and the boy right away.

Jack had not even realized that Chuck was in the room, but as soon as he had hung up, he found the boy standing in the doorway of his office, a strange expression on his face.

"Is he mad?" Chuck had asked quietly, hopefully. "Is he mad that I ran away?" He had looked so small then, so fragile. Like if Jack spoke the wrong words, he would break. Jack had had complete control.

"Yes." His eyebrows furrowing in what he hoped was a worried expression, "He is very upset with you." And Chuck Bass had smiled, his eyes growing a bit watery, before his mouth settled into a frown.

"I hope he's not too cross with you," Chuck had said. "For giving me asylum, I mean. If you ever need anything, Uncle Jack. You can come to me."

Jack had smiled at that sentiment, as if this sad boy would ever have anything meaningful that he wanted. And maybe because of that thought, maybe because he had already been kind that day, maybe because he actually felt something for this bow tied boy, he had continued the ruse and said, "I'll tell you what. You give these papers to your dad for me, and we'll call it even."

But, it turns out, that boy could have things he wanted. Chuck Bass had Bass Industries, the company he had slaved for for years and years. Chuck Bass had had Bart's love, even if he didn't believe it, something he had lost long ago. Chuck Bass had Blair Waldorf, a girl who fought and cried and smiled only for him. And this is the thing Jack coveted most of all. This is the thing Jack wanted to break if he couldn't have it for himself. Jack wanted to break it to show that love doesn't exist. Not love like that. Not for a Bass.

So, when Chuck looked at him in that interrogation room, looking a very young 18-years-old, Jack couldn't help but be reminded of that little boy. "Does she believe what they're saying about me?" Chuck asked again, his eyes pleading with him. Once again, Jack had complete control over this boy. With one word, Jack could make him whole again. With one word, he could break him completely.

And maybe because he had already saved him once, maybe because they still weren't even like Jack had promised so long ago, maybe because he thought if he said it out loud he could make it be true, he uttered a simple "Yes." And with that, with one syllable, he broke Chuck Bass.


	5. Chapter 5: Belief

A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update! I am trying National Novel Writing Month this year, so most of my writing time has been devoted to that. I hope you enjoy this update.

**Chapter Five: Belief**

"There would be no passion in this world if we never had to fight for what we love." Susie Switzer

***

As soon as Blair stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in one of Chuck's robes, she felt better. Jack's attempted rape seemed a little less real on this side of the shower, and Chuck's scent made her feel stronger.

After her hair was dried and styled (down in loose curls, Chuck's favorite) and her makeup perfectly applied, she slipped into a Waldorf original, a black scoop-neck dress that reached lower thigh, and a pair of eggplant, patterned tights. Blair had been planning on wearing her newest outfit all week, saving it for her day with Chuck.

She found her black, Dior coat and her gloves and made her way out of the hotel, avoiding the eyes of a certain employee as she strutted through the lobby. The limo was waiting, as she had requested. There was no time to wait for her car. Idle time could too easily be stolen by dangerous thoughts.

"Take me to the Palace, please, Arthur," she requested as she slid into the back and he closed the door behind her.

In the limo, Blair busied herself by organizing Chuck's extensive liquor collection. Before she knew it, the limo had come to a stop and Arthur was opening the door for her.

"The Palace, Ms. Waldorf."

She gave Arthur a small smile as she exited. "Thank you, Arthur. And Mr. Bass is almost out of scotch. Make sure someone takes care of that."

He nodded as he walked around the front of the vehicle. "Of course."

In the elevator, Blair kept busy by informing the bellman of the many things wrong with the upkeep of the elevator, namely, the state of the buttons.

"You do realize that you are not here at all hours. At times, people are forced to use their own fingers to push these dirty buttons." Blair paused to shudder at the thought. "This country is in the middle of a flu epidemic, and you are just standing idly by and letting it happen."

The bellman now stood as close to the opposite side of the elevator as possible, perhaps afraid she would try to take him down at any moment. "Actually, Miss, housekeeping is in charge of cleaning the elevators."

"Is that an excuse?" Blair shrieked exasperatedly. "Do you take no pride in your work?! Unless you and your gloved fingers plan to live in this elevator, I suggest you do something about it!"

The elevator doors hissed open and Blair stepped into the Van der Humphrey apartment. She heard a sigh of relief from the bellman as the doors closed behind her.

Rufus, Lily, Serena, Dan, Eric, and Jenny were all sitting around the breakfast table. Apparently, none of them had anything better to do on a Sunday morning than play happy family, Blair thought. They all turned their heads at Blair's entrance, looks of sympathy on their faces.

Serena bolted out of her seat when she saw her and rushed over to Blair, throwing her arms around her best friend.

"Blair, I'm so sorry," Serena said.

Lily stood up and walked over. "Bass Industries just called," she informed Blair. "We're all still trying out what our next step will be."

Blair's body stiffened in Serena's arms. Serena pulled away.

"How you doing, B?" she asked. "Do you want to go shopping? I'm yours for the day," Serena smiled at her friend.

Blair took a step away from Serena, a look of disbelief on her features. Serena's smile faded. "Serena, are you crazy? Chuck's in jail," she spoke the words slowly as if speaking to a small child.

However, Serena still did not seem to understand. "I'm sorry. You probably want to stay in, then. I'll have Dorota bring over Tiffany's and Roman Holiday and we can make a day of it."

Was she on drugs again? "Serena," Blair looked right at her. "I can't go shopping with you, or watch movies," she scoffed at the idea. "I need to fix this."

Serena's face fell. "Oh, B."

Blair analyzed the faces in the room. The expressions that before only held sympathy were now also wrinkled with worry.

Blair took another step back. "Wait a minute." She held her hands up in front of her. "You all think he's guilty," she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else.

Serena remained still, seemingly unsure what else she could do. Lily stepped past her and put her hand on Blair's shoulder. "Blair, honey, I know you care for Charles, but we need to be practical."

Hot anger flared up inside of Blair. She shrugged Lily's hand off. "Practical? Practical?!" She knew her voice was louder than it needed to be, but she couldn't help herself. What would it take to get through to these people?

"Lily, all his life, he's been waiting for a parent to believe in him. This is your chance!" Her eyes bore into Lily's face, but she looked away. She turned towards Serena.

"Serena, Chuck tried to help you when you self-destructed at the end of the summer. He was worried about you," she told her.

Serena shook her head, "Blair, I just-"

Blair shot past her and towards the breakfast table. She rounded on Eric,

"Eric, you've always seen what others can't. You know Chuck's a good person," Blair pleaded with him, her last real chance. Eric didn't show any sign that he disagreed with this last statement, but he stayed silent, which was enough for Blair. She wasn't looking for someone who wanted Chuck to be innocent. She was looking for someone who knew Chuck was innocent, who didn't doubt it even for a second,

Blair turned and walked past them all, the family that lived in Chuck's Palace. She pushed the elevator button

"Blair, wait," Serena tried, advancing towards her.

Blair held up a hand and Serena halted. "No, Serena," she seethed, looking them all in the eye one by one. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves."

The elevator door opened and she stepped inside, ignoring the frightened countenance of the bellman when he asked her which floor. She prodded the button herself. She didn't need anyone else. Just Chuck.

***

Chuck rubbed his temples. He felt like he had a hangover, but he hadn't even had a drop of scotch all week. Maybe he was going through withdrawal.

"Mr. Bass, I don't mean to frighten you," his lawyer repeated, unsure if his client had heard him the first time. "I just want you to understand the seriousness of the situation. This isn't like any of your other cases. It's not just going to go away."

Chuck met his lawyers eyes. "Mr. Hoffman, you've gotten me out of countless drunken and disorderly charges, drug possession. My father: arson, fraud. All of it true. You're telling me, that for the money I'm paying you, you can't get me cleared of something of which I'm actually innocent."

"Of course not," Mr. Hoffman countered, looking slightly offended. "I'm just telling you that it is not going to be as easy. We will win this. It's just going to be hard."

Chuck sighed. "How hard?"

"Well, I already spoke to the prosecution. They seems to think they have a solid case, that the woman who accused you is extremely reputable," Mr. Hoffman informed him.

"She can't be that reputable, considering she's making the whole thing up," Chuck said. Mr. Hoffman didn't respond, staring down at his pen. "Great, you think I did it," Chuck groaned. "Take a number," he muttered.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Mr. Hoffman said.

Chuck leaned forward. "It matters to me," he spat. "Now, I'm only going to say this once: I did not rape that woman."

Mr. Hoffman shuffled his papers around.

"Fine." Chuck leaned back in defeat. "You're fired," he stated.

Mr. Hoffman's head shot up. "You're firing me before the biggest trial of your life?" he asked in disbelief.

"I won't have a lawyer who doesn't believe me," Chuck hissed.

Mr. Hoffman slammed his briefcase shut. "Listen, kid. I represented your father, that heartless monster, for 20 years, and I've watched you grow up to be just like him." He walked to the door and opened it. "There's no one in this city who thinks you're innocent. No one." Mr. Hoffman walked out.

Detective McKinley stood in the doorway. "He's right, you know."

Chuck sat back in his chair, trying not to think about who that statement included. "How are the lawyers in Albany?" he asked McKinley.


	6. Chapter 6: The Players

**Chapter Six: The Players**

"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out." ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

***

It wasn't until fourteen days later on the first day of Chuck's trial, that Blair got to see Chuck again. He had been locked up in the police station without bail for the past two weeks. Blair had tried countless times to get into see him, but it seemed he wasn't allowed to see anyone, aside from his lawyer, a young hotshot from Boston named Celeste Parker. Blair had googled her as soon as she heard, from Lily via Bass Industries, that Chuck had replaced his old lawyer. She hated that she had to get her information from Lily, but was just thankful she didn't have to go to Jack.

Originally from a small town in New Hampshire, Celeste Parker received her undergrad from Mount Holyoke in history and later graduated top of her class from Harvard Law. She was a huge proponent of women's rights, regularly taking cases centering around abortion and female-victim sexual assault. How Chuck had gotten her to represent him in this case was beyond Blair. Still, she was one of the best lawyers in Massachusetts, and also had her license to practice law in three other states, including New York.

Blair waited in the hard wooden bench of the courtroom, directly behind where Chuck would be sitting. The courtroom was full, though mostly with reporters, notepads and pens ready in their hands. Blair recognized two of Chuck's associates from Bass Industries. They sat at the very back of the room, probably worried someone would recognize their connection with the accused rapist. The Humphreys and Van der Woodsen's also sat at the back of the room. Serena had moved towards Blair when she entered, but Blair had shot her a look so vicious Serena would not chance to approach.

Jack sat in the very back corner of the room, leering at Blair. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, and it made her shudder, and tie the scarf she was wearing around her neck a little tighter.

Blair peered up at the clock above the judge's bench. Five more minutes until the trial was set to begin. Five more minutes until she would be able to see his face again, the perfect pink of his lips, the sweeping line of his dark lashes across his pale skin. She had been trying to picture every detail of his face in her head when she closed her eyes at night. She hoped that if she could remember every detail, then it would be almost like he was there with her. She could never get the eyes right.

A rush of excitement filled the room, and Blair turned to see a woman and a man enter. The man was tall with classic good looks. He looked to be in about his mid-forties, a few white hairs visible in his otherwise blond locks. Though his suit was expensive, the briefcase he clutched in his right hand was worn. Blair recognized him from his pictures, this was the man who would be trying to put Chuck in jail, the defense attorney: Sean Powers.

Blair recognized the other woman immediately, as she had spent the past days willing her mind to recognize her from some party, or brunch, with no luck. This woman was Stella Andrews. She was the person who was accusing Chuck.

Blair hated her Golden Age Hollywood name. She hated her long, slender legs and perfect bone structure. She hated the golden tresses that flowed down her back, gleaming even in the bad lighting of the city courtroom. Blair hated everything about her, and if she thought it wouldn't hurt Chuck's case, Blair probably would have risen from her seat right then and there and tackled Stella Andrews to the ground. She still considered it, but, Stella quickly moved past where Blair was sitting, and the moment passed.

Lost in thought, Blair didn't seen Nate enter the room, until he slid into the bench beside her. She shot a glare in his direction, but refused to recognize his presence with speech.

"Blair, I know you're still upset with me." She sat up straighter and stared forward. "Just because I don't believe Chuck's innocent, doesn't mean I'm not here for him," Nate tried. However, Blair did not soften at the words. "I'm here for you, too, you know." He placed his hand on her own. Before Blair could shake it off, the judge entered from his chambers, signaling the beginning of the trial. Blair stretched her neck upward so she could see the entrance to the courtroom clearly.

After a few beats, it finally swung open. However, instead of Chuck, a tall, slender woman walked through. Her deep red hair was pinned in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her blue eyes flashed intensely as she noticed the massive turnout, but stayed focused on the front of the room. She strode forward, nodded at Sean Powers before taking her seat.

Celeste Parker. She looked even younger in person, Blair thought. But if Chuck was old enough to be going through this ridiculous ordeal at 19, then who was Blair to say Celeste Parker was too young at 28 to represent him. Before she had anymore time to dwell on the thought, the door opened again. People's heads shot up as they stood to get a better view, and even though Blair did the same, her small frame prevented her from seeing anything.

The judge tapped his gavel a few times. "Sit down, or you will be asked to leave," he commanded, and people began to do so. Blair reluctantly followed suit, but sat up as straight as she could, stretching her neck up like a giraffe.

Suddenly, he came into view, and Blair forgot to breath for a moment. It had been 14 days since she had last seen him. She drank the sight of him in, and realized in that moment, that though she may have gotten every single detail right when she closed her eyes at night, that it was nothing compared to the original. Then, she began to recognize the differences in him.

To the casual observer, Chuck, aside from the bailiff stalking him, looked the same as ever: expensive suit, guarded expression, signature strut. But, to Blair, the changes screamed loudly. His suit may have been Armani, but it was black and conservative, like the one he had worn to Bart's funeral. Instead of a signature bow-tie or a lavender shirt, he wore a gray tie atop a plain white shirt.

Chuck's poker face may have fooled the outside world, but Blair noticed the dark circles under his eyes. She noticed the way his jawbone was a bit more prominent as he clenched his teeth, a habit he had when he was worried about something. She noticed that when he walked down the aisle of the courtroom, he didn't float as seamlessly as he usually did, but shuffled his feet a bit against the carpet.

As he passed Blair's bench, she bored her eyes into the side of his face, willing him to turn towards her. She needed to see his eyes. His face twitched, and she knew he felt her gaze, but he did not turn. He sat down next to Celeste Parker, and Blair was forced to settle with a view of the back of his head.

What was wrong with him? Didn't he miss her as much as she missed him? They had been apart for 14 days, and all Blair could think about was seeing him again. When she had heard that courtroom door open, she couldn't have waited another second, let alone another minute without seeing his face. Yet, he hadn't even searched for her.

The rest of the first day of trial, preliminary ridiculousness, seemed to speed by as Blair busied herself with gathering as much information about Chuck as she could, analyzing his every movement. This was made harder by the fact that she could not see his face. She was mesmerized by his hand, though, clenching and unclenching as it rested on his thigh under the table.

Blair had first noticed the habit at Bart's funeral, as she watched him from across the church, sitting by himself in the front pew. He needs a hand to hold, she had thought, and had vowed that she would be there to hold his hand. Always.

Chuck and Blair, holding hands.

When she first told him she loved him, she had pried his hand off the cold, metal door of the limo, and clutched it with her own two hands. And for a moment, he had believed. She had held his hand, given him someone to hold onto, and, maybe more importantly, someone to hold onto him. Then, he had snatched it away, skeptical of the idea that anyone could hold Chuck Bass's hand without being pulled down with him.

Many months later, when she had awoken in the back of his limo, she found her hand in his once again, having crept over while she was asleep. She had looked at it, determined to find some mark of its betrayal, before she realized it was the only part of her that was true. While her mouth spouted lies and her mind forgot the promise she had made to herself in that church on one of the worst days of her life, her hand had remembered the vow.

Today, she hated that she couldn't hold his hand. Separated by a wooden fence, he sat so close, but still out of her reach. It felt like a true betrayal. Why was it that on the days he needed her the most, she could not be there?

The judge's gavel snapped her out of her reverie, and Chuck rose to his feet in front of her. How could it be over? It was too soon. She needed more time with him.

Celeste Parker whispered something into his ear, and he nodded. Blair was suddenly very jealous of this woman who got to stand so close to Chuck, who got to meet his eyes and whisper to him. She knew the emotion was ridiculous, even as she felt it, but she couldn't stop.

Chuck waited for the bailiff and then proceeded with him back down the aisle of the courtroom before exiting through the large doors. His eyes didn't wander once, staring straight ahead.

Once the judge left the room and people started filing out, Blair climbed over a confused Nate and dashed out the door, ignoring Serena's calls to her. She frantically searched the wide hall for the person she was looking for. She caught the red hair out of the corner of her eye and moved towards it, following it down the hall and into a bathroom.

The woman was already in a stall, so Blair waited patiently, trying not to touch any of the surfaces of the public restroom. It was bad enough her Jimmy Choos were touching the sticky floor.

A toilet flushed, and Celeste Parker stepped out of a stall. Blair was waiting.

"Um, excuse me," Celeste said awkwardly, trying to move around Blair, who was blocking her path to the sink.

"Ms. Parker," Blair began, sticking out her hand before quickly rescinding the offer when she realized where she was. "My name is Blair Waldorf."

"Ah, yes, the young lady who so desperately wants to see my client," Celeste offered. She motioned for Blair to move, and she reluctantly obeyed. Now that they had started a conversation, it seemed less likely that Celeste would make a break for it even after she had washed her hands. "I must admit," Celeste continued, glancing around the bathroom. "You're tenacious."

"Yes, that's what my first grade teacher wrote on my report card," Blair gave Celeste her best Waldorf smile, offering her a paper towel to dry her hands.

Celeste took it. "Ms. Waldorf, I wish I could help you, but Mr. Bass doesn't wish to see anyone," she explained.

Blair froze. She thought it was some regulation. She was prepared to deal with that: bribery, blackmail, whatever it took. But, Chuck not wanting to see her? She wasn't prepared for that.

Celeste threw her paper towel away and moved towards the door. But, Waldorfs knew how to think on their feet. She stepped in front of Celeste, her back to the door. "Ms. Parker, I'm sure if you informed Mr. Bass that it was Ms. Waldorf who wished-"

"I'm sorry, but he already knows," Celeste explained. "Now if-"

"Please," Blair's voice was so much smaller than it had been just moments before. She could feel her eyes brim with tears, and she willed them not to spill over. Crying in the bathroom of a courthouse to her boyfriend's lawyer was a bit too pedestrian for her. She was a Waldorf, not some white-trash widow in a John Grisham novel.

Apparently, Celeste felt the same way because, at Blair's plea, she reached into her briefcase and pulled out a card.

"I have a meeting with Mr. Bass at 6 o'clock tonight," Celeste acquiesced.

"I'll be there!" Blair spoke quickly, her heart lifting at the thought of seeing Chuck that very night.

"I can't promise he'll see you, but I'll do what I can," Celeste continued. Blair nodded eagerly. "Here's my card, if you need to get in contact with me." Blair took it before stepping out of the way. Celeste moved to open the door.

"Ms. Parker, do you think he's guilty?" Blair asked.

Celeste paused, hand on door. "I don't know," she admitted.

"Then why are you helping me?" Blair pressed on.

Celeste searched for the answer for herself as much as for Blair. "Because I want him to be innocent," she finally decided, eyes fixed on the door in front of her. "Because I'm sick of staring monsters in the face, whether it's from across the courtroom or otherwise." Celeste turned to look at Blair, "Because the only time I've felt sure of my client's humanity was in the moment I mentioned your name."

Celeste opened the door. "I'll see you at 6 o'clock, Ms. Waldorf," she said curtly, straightening her jacket and finally exiting the bathroom.

Blair watched the door swing on its hinges for a moment before bringing the card she had clutched in her hand up to her face. Celeste Parker, Attorney At Law. Blair Waldorf's new best friend.


End file.
